


it runs in the family

by rulingcourt



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Ill-Advised Bets Between Siblings, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22119298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rulingcourt/pseuds/rulingcourt
Summary: “Tooru,” Oikawa's sister says suddenly, after a moment. “If I’m wrong and Hajime-kun doesn’t like you back, I’ll bake you milk bread every week until you graduate, take you to see Takarazuka’s production ofSailor Moon Live, dismiss you from Takeru babysitting duty for the next two months, and buy you new volleyball sneakers.”Tooru’s eyes widen.“Are you...challengingme into confessing?”--OR: Being super intense is probably genetic in the Oikawa family. Tooru's sister baits him into finally confessing his feelings for Iwa-chan before they graduate.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Oikawa Tooru & His Sister
Comments: 7
Kudos: 75





	it runs in the family

**Author's Note:**

> I have tried, multiple times, to write Iwaoi stories from the point of view of both Oikawa and Iwa-chan but most attempts would just never come together. The voice that kept wanting to talk to me was Oikawa’s older sister, and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. So here I am, finally listening. And what I’ve learned is that Oikawa’s whole family is probably equally as awful and delightful.
> 
> I also started this WIP at around the same time as my other WIP (I’M WORKING ON IT OK) so if you see any similarities in plot, SORRY NOT SORRY lol.

Oikawa Tomoko usually looks forward to the weekly car rides with her little brother. It became tradition for Tomoko to pick Tooru up on Sunday afternoons ever since she and Takeru moved out of her parents house three years ago. Most of her friends are surprised she and Tooru are so close despite their ten year age gap, but Tomoko is an Oikawa and Oikawas are deeply ambitious, highly competitive, and have an almost impractical need to be contrary. 

The drives weren’t anything fancy. Most of the time, they’d do a quick lunch or run a few errands for an hour or so. Still, Tomoko thinks it’s rather nice to check in with Tooru weekly. He is her little brother after all.

But for the last six months, their relaxing Sunday drives have been hyper-focused on one specific topic:

“Ugh, Nee-chan, I hate him, he’s the worst person I’ve ever met, and I hope the rest of his day–no! The rest of his _life_! I hope the rest of his life is terrible and awful and I hate him.” Tooru curls up, sulking in the passenger seat of Tomoko’s car. 

“Tooru,” Tomoko says, her eyes remaining steady on the road. “You do not hate Hajime-kun.”

They’re on the way to pick Takeru up from a schoolmate’s house. Tomoko has been through this same conversation dozens of times now. Truly, she is honored to be the first person Tooru has ever come out to, but it also means their Sunday drives have become the single outlet for Tooru to yell and cry about his big, old crush on Hajime-kun.

It’s equal parts adorable, hilarious, and frustrating.

As Tomoko switches lanes, she hears Tooru sigh theatrically and she doesn’t have to look at him to know that he’s having one of his Moments. She can imagine it now: Tooru gesticulating wildly and dissecting whatever Hajime said or did that week, until every little thing becomes a mixed signal. Tooru would eventually tire himself out, sulk, and sink deeper, both into the cushion of the passenger seat _and_ into the hellish pit of his overwrought thoughts. His long legs would curl up under the dashboard, and it always looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“But I do hate him, though!” Tooru says, “Iwa-chan’s the worst, worst, _worst. Ugh._ ” After a beat, he adds, whining, “Why does he hate me?”

He knocks his forehead against the car window and the sound is ominous, with the finality of a punctuation mark.

At the stop sign, Tomoko looks over and sees Tooru trying to bury his body inside his oversized sweater. It doesn’t work so well now that he’s eighteen-years-old, long limbed and lean with muscle from years of volleyball, and no longer five-years-old, painfully shy, and obsessed with watching _Sailor Moon_ with Tomoko after school.

“Okay, Tooru. Which is it? Do you hate Hajime or does Hajime-kun hate you?” Then, as she presses the gas pedal, she slaps Tooru lightly on his shoulder. “Also, don’t slouch.”

“Well,” Tooru says, reluctantly putting his feet back down onto the car floor, and reaching for his pocket. “Iwa-chan clearly hates me. Or else he wouldn’t have posted _this_ on his Instagram!”

Tooru’s about to shove the screen of his phone into her face, but Tomoko has mom-of-an-eleven-year-old-boy reflexes and she swats her brother’s hand away. “Tooru. Not while I’m driving. Just describe it to me.”

He huffs, affronted. “It’s a video,” he says, voice clipped.

“A video.”

“A video of Iwa-chan doing pull-ups.”

Tomoko winces. “Yikes.”

“From the _back_.”

“Ooof.”

“In a _tank top_!” Tooru wails.

Tooru crumples with all the grace of a butterfly in a windstorm and swings an arm to cover his eyes. “And! And! That’s not all.”

“What– did he post a video of himself doing crunches too?” Tomoko says, snickering because she’s far removed enough from high school angst to see that this situation is at least—at least!—53% silly.

“Don’t even go there! I hate you,” Tooru says flippantly, tilting his forearm to glare at the side of his sister’s head. Tomoko’s gaze stays locked on the road. He wilts, and continues, “Honestly, it probably won’t be long. He’s doing some kind of workout challenge all month.”

“I mean, good for Hajime-kun though. That’s nice. Very healthy.”

“Nee-chan,” Tooru says flatly, “He’s going to be posting sweaty, shirtless workout photos of himself all over Instagram for the next 30 days.”

He follows that up immediately with a piercing screech, and kicks at her dashboard. “I hate him! I hate him! _I hate him!_ ” Tomoko thinks the last time she ever saw him do that was when he was twelve and she was twenty-two and accidentally stepped on one of his _X-Files_ DVDs. 

Wow, Tooru had it _bad_.

“Hm,” Tomoko remarks. She pulls the car over. They’re still about 10 minutes off from Takeru, but she knows Takeru won’t mind a few more minutes playtime with his friend. 

It’s been six months of this, and Tomoko has tried—really tried!—to keep her mom instincts out of whatever coming-of-age moment Tooru was in the middle of and give him some space. But Oikawa Tomoko has a limit to how long she can allow a problem to sit there, especially when there were several clear solutions that Tooru could see if he wasn’t so busy freaking out and destroying her car dash.

She unbuckles her seat belt, shifts her body to face her brother, and says, “Tooru, I say this with complete love...”

Tooru blinks up from his assault on the dashboard, looks up at his sister, and notices—finally—that the car had stopped moving.

“...But,” Tomoko continues, lowering her sunglasses. “You need to _calm the fuck down_.”

Tooru’s jaw drops, wounded. His hand flies to his heart. “A _tank top_ , Nee-chan!” he insists. “So rude!! It’s like he’s doing this on purpose!”

“Look, “ Tomoko continues, as though Tooru hadn’t interrupted. Her eyes soften and she puts a hand to Tooru’s cheek. “I’m so, so glad that you felt comfortable enough to confide in me about your crush on Hajime. You know I’m proud of you, and I love you, and nothing will change that.” She strokes his bangs up his forehead, as Tooru’s ears grow red. 

“I can sense the unspoken ‘but…’ here,” Tooru says, slapping her hand away. “I know what you’re gonna say. You want me to confess or shut up about him forever. Already sick of hearing about my little crush, Nee-chan?” He flashes her a smile, his eyes hard and glaring.

Tomoko frowns and clicks her tongue, letting her hand drop. “Don’t be dramatic. You _know_ that’s not it, Tooru. Whether you remember it or not, I’ve been listening to you gush over Hajime-kun since you were _four_.”

Tooru scowls. “That is so not true.”

Tomoko decides that now is not the time to bring up the crayon drawing Tooru once drew in kindergarten of his and Hajime’s future wedding. Tooru had sat her down and rambled on and on about how he would even give Godzilla-chan the honored seat in the front row instead of ET-chan because it would make Iwa-chan happy. 

“All I’m saying is, frankly Tooru, I’m surprised. And a little disappointed to be honest!” Tomoko sighs and leans back into the seat, hands behind her head.

Tooru raises an eyebrow at her. “Disappointed.”

“Disappointed!” she tsks. “You’re an Oikawa, and when an Oikawa sets a goal, they’ll hit it with everything they’ve got.” She raises her own eyebrow right back at him —an expression they both inherited purely from their mother. “I’ve been listening to you whine about Hajime-kun for _six months_ and not once have I heard anything resembling a game plan from you.”

“There _is_ no game plan!” Tooru says, throwing his hands up in the air. “He’s obviously straight, stupid, or both!”

“Where’s the evidence?” Tomoko shoots back.

“Evidence? I’ve known him my whole life! He’s never once indicated any interest towards me or anyone!”

“Tooru, Tooru, Tooru...” Tomoko shakes her head, putting her hand on his shoulder. “You may be amazing at observing your fellow volleyball players, but your blind spot has always been yourself.”

Tooru swats her hand off and scowls.

“And anyway,” Tomoko continues, looking back towards the road, taking the wheel, and hitting the gas, “you know what I’m going to say.”

“I am not confessing to Iwa-chan!!” Tooru slumps back down into his seat, his long legs cramped up under the dash. He pouts and crosses his arms, and he knows he’s acting ridiculous right now but his sister was being ridiculous first.

"Okay, sure, Tooru. When you’re ready and you stop acting like you’re five, you can talk it out with him.” Tomoko meets his gaze through the rearview mirror and when she speaks again, her voice takes on that mom-ish quality she uses when she’s trying to have a ‘teachable moment’ with Takeru:

“But I’m just saying. It’s been awhile now and I can see what this is doing to you.”

Tooru huffs again.

“Everything is perfectly fine. I’m fine, I can go through my whole life living like this if it means staying friends with Iwa-chan.” He crosses his arms. “Besides, Hajime is straight. I know he’s straight. I just….”

“You just don’t want to hear it from him.” Tomoko finishes, as she pulls in to park in front of Takeru’s friend’s house. She turns to face Tooru, and pushes his hair back from his forehead again. “Mm, Tooru. Maybe it’s not my place to say anything. But, honestly? I think Hajime-kun might surprise you.”

Tooru looks back at his phone, his eyes lingering on that ten second loop of Hajime’s back muscles. They ripple with the strain of lifting himself up the bar. Tooru sighs, and feels his hand go to his warming cheeks. Iwa-chan’s really getting handsome. That, mixed with his casual strength and kind-despite-it-all personality made for a dangerous mix.

“Tooru. You are smitten.”

“Am not!” Tooru’s gaze snaps away from the video and towards his Nee-chan. He sticks his tongue out impetuously and it’s so immature but he does it anyway. There was really no reason to grow up so quickly.

Tooru finally puts his phone away.

“You know what, forget I brought it up, Nee-chan. It’s fine! Everything is fine. Iwa-chan is fine.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Everything is fine and nothing needs to change between us! Okay? Can we just leave it at that Nee-chan?” Tooru’s hands wave wildly in front of him before resting back to cover his face. He should have never confided in his sister, but he just had to get the feeling out before he exploded. Makki and Mattsun—well, he wasn’t quite ready to let them know.

  
\---

  
Frankly, Tooru was still trying to get over the “I like boys” thing. Initially, he wasn’t sure. But then Iwa-chan started to mature and grow into himself, his cheekbones, his jaw, his _biceps_ ; Limbs that used to feel too big and awkward for a ganglier body looked much more natural now that Iwa-chan was actively bulking up. And Tooru realized it wasn’t everyone who had feelings for their best friend, or noticed things like the nice curve of sturdy muscle on a well trained volleyball player across the net.

The thing about Tooru was he noticed things. At first, he thought it was normal to observe the strong flex of muscle of a competitor’s thick thighs as he squatted down to receive the ball. Or the lithe muscle in a powerful spike. Tooru told himself it was totally in the spirit of the game to notice these things. He had made his entire volleyball career on being a master of keen observation. 

He couldn’t help it if these observations were sometimes distracting, or if they sometimes made a warm feeling pool near his belly. Or—in the case of Iwa-chan— they made his heart beat faster and his face heat to a brilliant red.

It had been happening more and more. During practice, or even just during casual hangouts at one of their houses. For Tooru, each touch and each moment spent in each other’s presence felt charged and he constantly felt a spark of electricity sear itself through his body….

If Iwa-chan noticed, he didn’t say anything. Stupid, strong, loyal Iwa-chan was unwavering in many ways, but most especially in his apparent willingness to stick to routine.

So Tooru figured, if Iwa-chan didn’t want anything to change between them, Tooru wouldn’t let anything change. If Hajime was his rock, his pillar, it was Tooru’s turn to return the favor.

Tooru would not be the one to drop the ball and ruin everything.

\---

“Hey, can you pass me my physics textbook?” Iwa-chan asks, through the pencil between his teeth. His brow furrows in that cute way Tooru liked. That was an observation Tooru had made all the way back in middle school—it made Iwa-chan look like a grumpy old man in certain angles sometimes, but when the light hit him just right, other times it could make him look focused and intense and handsome; Tooru liked that about him. That his intensity could match his own.

“Ugh, Iwa-chan, it’s too far.” Tooru whines, making a show of reaching and stretching his arm to its limit. 

“Idiot — the bag is right next to you!!” Iwa-chan says, tossing his pencil at Tooru’s head. 

“Fine, fine, fine!” Tooru says hastily moving to grab the book from Iwa-chan’s bag. “Don’t say I’ve never done anything for you Iwa-chan~”

Iwa-chan grunts in response as he returns focus to his notebook. Tooru smiles and digs his hand into Iwa-chan’s backpack, and that’s when he sees it.

The flash of pink paper stuffed among the pages of a history textbook.

Tooru’s received enough of these to know what it is immediately. He feels a well of emotions flooding inside him all fighting to break through and show up on his face. But he’s learned since Kitadai to school his feelings, and he carefully arranges his features into a look of teasing impassivity.

“My, my, Iwa-chan. Looks like we have quite the Casanova here.” Tooru says, slipping the confession letter out between his finger tips. He holds it up between his index and middle fingers, and levels a cold smirk towards Hajime. “Aren’t you gonna open it?”

Iwa-chan’s face glows red and he snatches the letter out of Oikawa’s hand, blustering, “Oi! That’s private! Who said you could look through my things, Shittykawa?!”

“I can’t help that I just _happened_ to come across it when you _happened_ to ask me to look through _your_ backpack, Iwa-chan!”

“It’s nothing,” Iwa-chan grumbles, placing the letter beneath his notebook as if Tooru could somehow magically forget about it if it was hidden from plain sight.

“If it’s nothing, why did you keep it?” Tooru sing-songs, and he hates himself a little for it. He could just take Iwa-chan’s cue and drop it, but of course, Tooru has to dig salt into his own wound.

“Because it’s rude to disregard someone’s feelings!” Iwa-chan snaps, nearly breaking his pencil along with it. “You should know. You do it all the time.”

Tooru narrows his eyes at the implied mention of his trail of exes: girls who broke up with Tooru for not paying them the right amount of attention. Low blow. But he won’t take the bait. Tooru is nothing if not a master at verbal sparring and he refuses to concede the upper hand.

“I was just curious,” Tooru says innocently. “If my little Iwa-chan is growing up, I want to know the details. When is the wedding?”

At that, Iwa-chan throws another pencil at Tooru’s head. “No one said anything about a wedding!” His cheeks blossom with the blotchy red of anger or embarrassment or both. He must realize then that Tooru wouldn’t stop his relentless teasing _ever._ They might as well get this conversation over with. 

Finally, admitting defeat, he mutters, “It’s from Sakamoto-san in class 3-D, the girls’ baseball team captain.”

Tooru hums nonchalantly and hides how his heart feels like a star suddenly collapsing into itself. Black holes were endlessly fascinating as documentary subjects but rudely apt as a metaphor for unrequited love. 

Still, he had long practiced for this inevitability and had rehearsed the part of the supportive best friend teasingly encouraging a fellow bro long enough. “Ah, she’s cute, isn’t she?” Tooru comments, and it’s true. Sakamoto-san was cute, if immemorable.

“Yeah, I guess,” Iwa-chan replies, still blushing, and avoiding Tooru’s gaze. His mind seemed to be somewhere else and Tooru wrinkles his nose in annoyance. Iwa-chan was normally painfully transparent in his feelings and ridiculously easy to read. Tooru hated the moments when his best friend suddenly became illegible.

Those moments seemed to be happening more and more lately.

It was infuriating.

“Well,” Tooru says brightly, flipping his textbook closed. “Nee-chan wanted to get dinner with me. So! I’ll be seeing you Iwa-chan!”

By the time Hajime blusters out a confused, expletive-laced response, Tooru is out the door.

\---

“So you just _left_?” Tomoko says, disbelieving at Tooru. The plate of meat skewers between them was the specialty of the little izakaya next to her apartment, but they sat untouched by Tooru who looked, instead, like he’d been skewered by Cupid’s unrequited arrow himself.

 _God_ , she thinks, _that was dramatic_. She’s really been spending too much time with Tooru and his teen angst. He’s lucky Tomoko’s neighbor owed her a favor and she could go off with Tooru after she received his “emergency” text. Takeru was probably abusing their neighbors Nintendo Switch right now instead of getting ready for bed, but Tooru seemed pretty desperate over the phone. Big sister duties called.

Tomoko must admit that in her own genetic cocktail, her mother’s flair for dramatics had been evenly tempered by her father’s strong sense of reason.

Tooru, though. Well. He may hide it well in front of his fangirls, but Tomoko knows. 

He’s all their mother.

“I didn’t know what to do!” Tooru exclaims, banging his palm against the bar. The bartender looks up at that, remembers Tooru’s underaged ID, and tops off his glass of water with...more water. 

“Uh-huh,” Tomoko replies, a delicious enoki mushroom skewer held delicately between her fingers. “Did it ever occur to you that he kept this Sakamoto-chan’s confession letter so he could properly reject her? Or did you not stick around long enough to find out?”

“I did consider that possibility, yes.” Tooru says sourly. “But it just made me more mad. Stupid Iwa-chan, always so chivalrous.” He rolls his eyes. “I couldn’t do it. Be on the other side of his gentle rejection. I don’t need his pity.”

He downs the glass of water and slams the empty glass back onto the table.

“But he _didn’t_ reject you,” Tomoko says flatly.

“Well, he’s _going_ to! Eventually.”

It was Tomoko’s turn to roll her eyes. She was not going to have this conversation for the five hundredth time.

“It would be one thing if he were actually awful about it, “ Tooru says, quietly, “But despite how rough he is, Iwa-chan is nice. Too nice to me.” He grimaces, then spits viciously, “I hate it.”

His blush betrays him.

“He’s nice,” Tomoko concedes, eating the last of her mushroom. “But he reserves most of his kindness for you.” And because she’s tired of circling the point, she says plainly, “Tooru, Hajime-kun likes you. I’ve watched you both since you were in diapers. He likes you, okay?”

Her baby brother looks unmoved. Members of the Oikawa family were infuriatingly stubborn, and both Tomoko and Tooru had exhausted this discussion ad nauseum. They sit in silence. A stalemate.

“Tooru,” Tomoko says suddenly, after a moment. “If I’m wrong and Hajime-kun doesn’t like you back, I’ll bake you milk bread every week until you graduate, take you to see Takarazuka’s production of _Sailor Moon Live_ , dismiss you from Takeru babysitting duty for the next two months, and buy you new volleyball sneakers.”

Tooru’s eyes widen.

“Are you... _challenging_ me into confessing?”

“Well, if nothing else has worked…” Tomoko shrugs, and folds her arms behind her head. The finished skewer stick hangs precariously between her lips.

Tooru clicks his tongue and looks at her, long suffering. “I gather up the courage to come out to my precious, role model Nee-chan, and all she wants to do is play games with my feelings! How rude.”

“Tooru, you can’t just sit here and mope,” Tomoko says, dropping her arms. All pretense of nonchalance drops along with them. “It’s not even about Hajime-kun. You owe it to yourself to do something with your feelings. That doesn’t necessarily mean you need to confess everything to him, but honestly Tooru, please, like, find an outlet. Write shitty poetry. Make up a love song. Do something besides cry about it for the half hour you ride in my car. Just _don’t hold it all in_.”

Her brother stares at her intently, considering something. It’s a little unnerving actually, to be leveled with the same invasive gaze that often made teen boys cry from across the volleyball court. 

Oikawa Tooru could be many things, whiny, petty, annoyingly knowledgeable about _Star Wars._ And he also hated to lose a challenge.

Especially one from his sister.

“Three months,” Tooru says, finally.

“Huh?”

“Make it three months off from babysitting duty,” Tooru says smoothly, lifting his palms magnanimously. “If I lose and, as you say, Iwa-chan _does_ like me, I’ll babysit Takeru for an extra day a week for three months, pay for the next eight times we eat out together, _and_ I’ll even watch that trashy TV drama you love so much without saying a single bad thing about it.”

Tomoko grins, wicked. And that, they both got from their mother. 

“I’ll...” Tooru begins, swallowing, and then finding his resolve again. “I’ll...confess to Iwa-chan before graduation. And I’ll _prove_ to you that you’re wrong and Iwa-chan is straight as a line.”

This was a bet that Tomoko felt 99% sure she would win, and she was absolutely _delighted_.

“Oh, you are _on_ , little brother.”


End file.
